


Fox on the Run

by jay_me_says



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: :), Floris | Fundy-centric, L'manhole, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_me_says/pseuds/jay_me_says
Summary: This fic was inspired by the name of a color palette my QPP sent me one day!Fundy has no home.That much has been obvious for weeks. On some level, he knew that- he knew. But now, on his way back to L’manburg by himself, it really hits him.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Fox on the Run

Fundy has no home. 

That much has been obvious for weeks. On some level, he knew that- he _knew_. But now, on his way back to L’manburg by himself, it really hits him. 

Before the final fight with Technoblade and Dream, Fundy made the decision to jump ship. His father had died in L’manburg, his grandfather was siding with public enemies number one and two to take it down, and the fox didn’t feel like he could trust anyone within the country anymore. Not Tubbo, not Ranboo, not even Niki. Besides, the place had been falling apart for far too long. It was time to leave.

He knew, of course, what would happen to L’manburg. There was no way they could defeat the combined forces of Dream and Technoblade, even with most of the server on their side. And what were they to do against TNT raining down on them? The fight was over before it even began.

And yet, the vaguest flicker of hope has been lingering in the fox all these weeks. While he walked hundreds of blocks away from home each day, while he cooked over a campfire, while he slept at night, while he packed up camp and got moving with the rising sun. The tiny flame of hope burned within him always, no matter how foolish Fundy knew it was or how much he longed to stomp it out. 

Some part of him had to see it, to truly confirm that the nation he helped build was gone. He’d already seen all the evidence he should need- smoke hanging in the air the morning after the sixth, familiar figures spotted from a distance trudging away from the direction of the country. But he needed to be sure, to put out the tiny flame that asked him “what if?” 

So, he walked. And he walked. Fundy had traveled who-knows-how-many blocks in his endeavor to get as far away as possible from L’manburg. He slightly regrets that now that he’s trekking back. He’s been walking all day for a week and hasn’t so much as seen a familiar landmark. The constant ache in his limbs and feet had faded weeks ago as his body grew used to the new limits he broke daily, but the fox couldn’t wait for the trip to end, feeling impatient. Every step he took closer to L’manburg made him more anxious to arrive. It was taking too long. _Another reason you should just turn back_ , he thinks. 

But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t make himself do it. 

It takes another two days of walking for him to see the first stretch of the prime path. Oak slabs peek out from behind a line of trees ahead of him. Something like nostalgia and melancholy tug at the fox’s heart. 

Fundy pokes out from behind the large oaks blocking his vision. His ears are perked, alert, listening for any hints of danger. The fox’s blood freezes when he recognizes the structures around him. He’s in Greater Dream SMP territory. 

A shot of adrenaline sends him back into the forest. One hand reaches up to muffle a gasp, and he pushes off the tree so hard that he scrapes his palm. He can’t be seen here. Who knows what they’ll do to an old enemy. 

Poking his head out every now and again, looking for landmarks and tracking his progress, Fundy navigates through the woods in the direction of L’manburg. 

A million feelings race through him at the same time. Fear, dread, relief, curiosity. What was he going to see? Was anyone from L’manburg still there? Why had he decided to come back? 

Finally, the fox emerges from the woods one last time. In an instant, his stomach drops all the way to the void that exists below bedrock. His throat tightens and the breath is ejected from his lungs, swirling away into the dusty air. 

His home has been reduced to a pit. 

A gaping hole consumes the spot where memories, homes, and history used to stand. It’s all gone. 

His stomach bottoms out again as he walks closer to the edge of the crater. It’s so deep- he can see patches of bedrock down at the bottom. The soft, nearly soothing sounds of flowing water starkly contrast the wreckage before him. The explosion busted into some caves beneath L’manburg, breaking water free of underground ponds. Streams of blue tumble into the pit and form little pools in dips in the bedrock. 

As Fundy stares into the hole, aghast, his mind wanders, considering all of the sickening possibilities of what might’ve happened that day. Fear shoots through him as a terrible thought breeches his mind. What if some of his friends had died that day? 

The notion finally brings forth tears. In one second, a sudden sting in his eyes crescendos to giant, broken sobs. He falls to the ground, closer to the pit than he should be without armor, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He sits at the edge of the crater on his hands and knees, clutching at tufts of singed grass, crying his eyes out. All sound leaves his consciousness; the streams of water fade into nothing. Each sob sends a knife through his chest. He can’t remember ever crying this hard in his life. His throat hurts and his breaths come in rough gasps. The tears douse the tiny flame of hope, finally putting it out. 

L’manburg is gone. The thought is brutally bittersweet. The ideals the nation should’ve stood for had died long ago. Fundy can’t help but think that it was about time someone put L’manburg out of its misery. Might as well have been Techno and Dream. 

But he can’t shake the grief for his home. His _friends_ ’ home. And potentially his friends. The idea that he might’ve left some of them for good without a proper goodbye brings a squeezing hand of grief around his heart. 

Guilt comes next. How had that day gone down? Could Fundy have done anything to stop it?

Probably not. But he can’t help but feel disgusting- traitorous. In L’manburg’s- no, in his _friends_ ’ hour of need, he had turned his back on them. He was no better than he’d ever been. How many of his friends had so much as made it out of the nation alive? With the wreckage in front of him, it seemed unlikely anyone could’ve survived. But he had seen some people leave. So, how many had lived? _Who_ had lived? Niki? Ranboo? Tubbo? Eret? Tommy? 

Through the pain and the fear and the uncertainty, it feels like something has been lifted from Fundy’s shoulders. He no longer needs to wonder about the fate of L’manburg. It’s written clearly here before him, in all of its hideous glory. A pit covered in ash and debris that still smells of smoke; that’s all the remains of L’manburg. It’s all over. Never again would L’manburg face the fate of being governed. 

The sounds of the water streams slowly come back to him. Fundy sits himself up properly, swiping at the tears flowing down his cheeks. He feels bits of grass and dirt stick in the wet trails as he does. The fox finally notices his scraped hand’s stinging protests at being shoved onto the ash-covered ground. He vaguely wonders if the smell of smoke will cling to his jacket. Through blurry and tear-filled eyes, he stares out across the pit that was once a failing nation, at the spot where the L’mantree once stood. 

As he shakily stands, Fundy remembers the day he, his grandfather, Tommy, Tubbo, and Niki had stood by a six-block deep hole in front of that tree, tearful goodbyes and sullen faces filling the space left by a broken man who was once a father, son, and friend.

Fundy doesn’t let himself think about what had happened to his dad’s body in the explosions. ~~Maybe it would even be fitting if he went up in smoke with his country~~. He just stares at the spot where it should’ve been. The fox feels unstable, like his legs could give way again at the slightest breeze. Fundy takes long, careful breaths in an attempt to slow his weak sobs enough to speak. His tail hangs limply behind him, dragging in the gray grass. 

In a choked, barely audible voice, Fundy says, “Goodbye, Dad.” 

The fox turns around slowly and starts walking. Then, he jogs. And then he runs. He runs as fast as he can, tears continuing to streak paths down his face. He’ll have to stop running eventually, he knows, but for now he forces his legs faster, faster. For now, he runs from the smoking pit that was once the only home he’d ever known. For now, he is just a scared fox, running.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
